It’s Always Halloween

Prompt: At midnight, a witch is trapped in a parallel world.

Fandom: Harry Potter/Avengers

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….”

Holly Jillian Potter went over the prophecy that had made her life hell. She had won the war, at a great cost, many years ago. She had left England afterwards, too much guilt and sadness made her unable to stay after she helped rebuild Hogwarts and attend trials for Death Eaters. Last she knew her friends that had survived had moved on with their lives, they had families, and one by one died.

She had gotten Owls, a lot of them in the beginning begging her to come back home, but overtime they only were sent when there was big news they wanted her to know (when Teddy went to Hogwarts and became a Hufflepuff and eventually Head Boy, when they had kids, when their kids went to Hogwarts, divorces (Holly always knew that Ron and Hermione would argue too much for it to work long term), weddings, and the eventual deaths). She returned letters letting them know how she was, but kept them vague. She didn’t want them to know she hadn’t aged a day past her prime. Her dark red, almost brown hair had not a trace of gray. There were no crow’s feet or laugh lines by her brilliant green eyes and somewhat thin lips.

The line that they hadn’t quite looked into deeply back in the day, “either must die at the hand of the other” turned out to be quite important. She couldn’t die without Voldemort to kill her. And, well, that coupled with the fact that she was the last owner of all the Deathly Hallows at the time of her initial death to get Voldemort out of her head, made her the Mistress of Death, it didn’t help either. She, in short, couldn’t die at all.

She had searched the world, magic and muggle, for anyway to reach death. She wanted to be reunited with her friends and family. She wanted that more than anything. Sure, she had the bloody Resurrection Stone that brought their spirits to her, but she knew it hurt them seeing what she was going through, and being in a realm they didn’t belong in. She wanted her reward dammit!

She had been traveling the world, making contacts but never friends since she knew that eventually they would be gone too, hoping for a way to achieve her greatest wish. She continued on her journey even though she knew her late family didn’t agree with her. She had even met with Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle Flamel, whom she had thought long since dead, in her travels. It turns out they had plenty of the potion that kept them alive under preservation spells. (They had no answers for her since they wanted live not die. She had learned a lot of spells and potions considered lost in the time that she stayed with them however.)

It was now October 30th and she was in the American Department of Mysteries, looking at a potential job under the Head of the DOM, when she came upon it. A Veil of Death. She had tried to go back to England once, using the cloak to hide from everyone she knew that was still alive and working in the ministry, to find the Veil destroyed. When Voldemort had taken over the ministry he had heard about the mysterious archway, and he wanted it gone. So, gone it became.

She heard the whisperings just beyond the veil in front of her, those tempting whispers that sounded familiar and just out of her reach. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying and it prompted her closer. She looked at the Unspeakable that was showing her around the Department. It was one of the few departments that had shifts 24/7. Their hood of the jacket they wore made their face a black shadow. Their voice was tampered with slightly so as to not give their identity away. The idiot wasn’t even paying attention to Holly, instead going on about some recent break through with magic and the latest muggle technology.
It was Holly’s chance to see if she could go the way her godfather went.

She distanced herself and made it look like she was going to take a look at the runes on the stone arch. The idiot still kept blathering, “The advancements we’ve made! Blah, blah, blah.” Holly turned and made it seem like she lost her balance while looking, then felt herself going backwards getting pulled into the arch. The last thing Holly saw in her world was the clock on the wall striking midnight as she fell into the veil.

Holly was floating in a black void. The whispers were no more. She heard only one voice speaking to her: “Are you that daft?”
Holly made to respond to Death, most likely a “have you met me?” The pair had spoken a couple times before about stupid things Holly had done, but a bright flash of light and the sudden feeling of falling (and the eventual crashing) bombarded her.

A blue energy around her dissipated and she saw a man kneeling with his head down next to her. She had no clue who the guy beside her was; inwardly she sighed. He parted his lips, almost like he was about to speak, and then stood up. She heard a voice interrupt her observations.

“Sir,” a black man in leather wearing an eye patch spoke, “please put down the spear.”

Holly seeing that this clearly wasn’t the train station she remembered, or the Department of Mysteries, stayed where she was on the ground. She didn’t want to be seen as a threat even though they probably already considered her to be one. The man standing looked to his weapon, almost as if to say, “Oh, you mean this spear?” before thrusting it forward and producing a beam of concentrated energy. Her eyes widened as the man that spoke flew back and a barrage of bullets filled the air.

Quickly standing up, she flicked her hand her wand snapping into position in her ready hand. She took a look around the room and concentrated. Clearly some sort of military base, metal all around, dim lighting, most likely underground. The man who came through the portal seemed to be bullet proof. Bloody fantastic.

There were sparks of flame flying from damaged equipment, and thanks to the unknown that came with her she didn’t have anyone attacking her. The black man with the eye patch that flew started to stand as one of his agents, she assumed, looked to be stuck with a spear close to his chest. She sighed. She hated the fact that her “saving people thing” had stuck with her.

“Protego Maxima!” Holly yelled out, catching the attention of the long haired male with the glowing spear.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eye Patch take the blue glowing cube out of its device and into a silver suitcase.

Everything just seemed to be glowing. Like, for example, that huge thing of energy above her.

“A sorceress has joined my travels,” he eyed the wand before giving his attention to Eye Patch. “Please don’t. I still need that.”

“This doesn’t have to get any messier.” The man stayed in one spot and Holly’s shield softly fell.

All of a sudden the spear that was once at the man with short hair’s chest was back again. This time Holly was too late; the man’s eyes went from black to an eerie electric blue. The color was the same as the energy around her and in the spear. The hand that was holding the gun lowered and holstered the weapon.

“Well shite!” Holly exploded, “I knew a couple of twins who bloody well worshipped you in school. Probably my dad too, thinking on it. And shutting up now.” She saw the look that Patches gave her, as Loki preened.

One of the other men, an older white male, stood up from where he had fallen and spoke, “Loki, brother of Thor.”
Holly swore she saw the god’s eye twitch. Not a great subject to bring up then. Patches seemed to catch on and tried to maintain peace.

“We have no quarrel with your people.” His hands were up to Loki in a cautious manner and he sent a cautious eye to Holly, either wondering if she was with Loki or at all a threat.

She shook her head no, as if her exclamation of surprise wasn’t enough. Clearly, they wore different clothing styles. Besides, she had a feeling that Loki was a bit of a wanker. He had that pompous Slytherin attitude about him. If the twins were still around, and if she were in her own place in time or perhaps dimension (?), they’d be so disappointed with the god of mischief.

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot.” Yep, she was right.

“Are you planning to step on us?” The gloved hand went down.

“I come with glad tidings of a world made free.”

Holly wanted to roll her eyes. Patches seemed to be holding back from doing the same, his body language falling a bit in a “aw hell, what now?” kind of manner. She understood the feeling. That was her for most of her life—especially on Halloween.

“Free from what?”

“Freedom.” Holly let out a snort; Loki turned his gaze to her. “Freedom is life’s great lie.”

“I don’t think so mate.” She smiled a predatory smile; she knew her eyes were blazing the color of the Avada Kedavra.

He walked over to the man who spoke of Thor while keeping eye contact with her; “Once you accept that, in your heart . . .” his spear touched the man’s chest. “You will know peace.”

“Yeah, you say “peace,” I kind of think you mean the other thing.” Holly nodded in agreement.

“I’m with Patches here; I was controlled enough in my past life early on. So thanks, but you know . . . no thanks.” Loki looked into her eyes with an intense frown on his face.

The man that Holly tried to protect spoke up, “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Patches, who she now knew as Director Fury, spoke a quip, “Like the pharaoh’s of old.”

Holly smiled as she always loved a good quip. However, being a smart witch, she knew that even if she couldn’t die being buried alive under a hundred feet of rock wouldn’t be too fun. Seeing a pulse of blue go above her head she missed some words going on, what brought her back was the sound of a gun going off and Fury falling back. Having some experience with healing she darted down to him already trying to heal him.

Loki and his controlled goons soon left and as so the god gave her a look, one that spoke of seeing each other soon. She hated those looks on self-proclaimed villains— especially when they were pointed at her.

“Do you have a way to get us the fuck out of here?” The man under her care snapped; she nodded. “Then do so!”

With a pop they vanished from the collapsing base. Another pop sounded and she looked around. There were lights lighting a paved path, large rocks, and benches that were luckily empty. She assumed it was a park. She wasn’t sure where, since clearly she had no idea where the hell the Veil spat her out, but Fury seemed to know where they were.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Apparition,” he tried to move into a sitting position. “Sir, you really should—”

He reached into his pocket and called a person named Hill; ordering them to pick him up. His language was coded, but she picked up coordinates. Soon enough a stealthy looking jet landed and Holly helped the man up to his feet. The people that left the jet had guns pointing every which way and Fury discreetly shook her hands off of him. With a nod to her she walked forward peacefully into the jet with him.

“Now, I’d really like to know who you are and how the hell you hitched a ride with Loki.”

“Holly Jillian Potter, The-Girl-Who-Just-Won’t-Die, at your service,” with a jaunty salute she continued on. “I jumped into a Veil of Death in—what I’m assuming, mind—my dimension and somehow popped up with our pal Loki. Most likely because a portal was made, Death herself— popped me to the closest portal around me. Then again, who knows what actually happened.”
Director Fury looked done with the green-eyed witch. He sighed and brought her into a room with a table. A strict looking woman with a bun and an ear-piece entered the room with controlled movements. She spoke in a hush to the Director, he gave her quick instructions and then she left the room.

“Loki called you a sorceress?” Holly shrugged.

“Back where I’m from we called ourselves witches, but yeah.” Nodding he thought for a moment.

“Do you have any idea how to get back to your world?” Indicating a negative with a shrug of her green jumper clad shoulders and a slight tilt of her head, the director sighed. “I’m going to take you to the Helicarrier. There will be a room you can stay in, and I will talk to you tomorrow morning on your options here in this world.”

Holly nodded; it was more than reasonable, ‘course she did basically tell him that she can’t die, so that option if he thought she was a foe was out. Then again, there was always torture, even if she did have a decently high pain tolerance. She had a feeling that it wouldn’t come to that however.

After inquiring to Director Fury what she was boarding and finding out it was called a helicarrier, Holly was directed to a sterile looking room. The bed was hard, but with a flick of her wand it was as soft as a Hogwarts mattress. She knew that there were cameras in the room, but with her magic it would interfere with the feed, causing nothing but static to be seen.

Closing her eyes as she rested on the bed she began to focus on calling Death to her. She had done this a few times once she realized that the Hallows she had tossed and broken returned to her mended and intact. As soon as she felt the cool presence in the room she opened her eyes. The figure sitting on the other side of the room in a metal chair was draped in a black cloak; the face underneath it was an expressive humanoid skull.

“Mistress,” Holly sighed a long tired sigh.

“Now, if you can call me “daft” you can sure as hell call me by my real name.” The incline of the skull made Holly smile for a second. “Since that’s out of the way . . . why can’t you just let me die?”

“I don’t want some megalomaniac in control of me. You let me do my own thing, which I’m thankful for. Besides, you’re typically a great conversationalist and no one here can control the Hallows, and since you’re here and they’re now in play in this dimension, you can’t leave.”

“Bollocks. You bloody suck.” Was Holly’s petulant response, “why does Fate have to hate me so much?”

Death laughed, “Fate doesn’t hate you— she’s just a bitch since people complain so much, like now.”

Holly nodded to her only friend in this dimension. “So, just to be clear, I’m stuck?”

Death stood up and picked some invisible lint off her cloak, “Oh yeah, indefinitely. Now, I have to go, some moron is trying to call me.”

“Fantastic, have a nice time abandoning me in this place.”

With that Death disappeared with a chuckle and Holly was left with a cold, empty room. Closing her eyes once more Holly welcomed whatever sleep she could manage, knowing that she’d have to talk with Director Patches later. She really had the worst luck on Halloween.